


Enthralled

by jeejaschocolate



Series: Chains and Skin and Scourge [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: 30 years before, Based on the Ardyn DLC trailer, Body Horror, Daemon stuff, Daemonic sugar baby!Ardyn, Hurt, Implied Sexual Content, It's my headcanon, M/M, Nudity, Obsessions, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Rarepair, Romance, Sex stuff in exchange for favors, Sexual Tension, Sugar daddy!Verstael, These two cannot have a normal relationship, Villains, but only towards the end, pre-game, very little comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 07:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17239799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeejaschocolate/pseuds/jeejaschocolate
Summary: (Set 30 years prior to the main game, based on the Ardyn DLC trailer)The first time Verstael saw him—that man, creature, the Accursed—he was helpless. Tied down by chains, locked away from the world for millennia, barely able to stand on his own.Chains are a strange thing. Mutable. Invisible, sometimes.From that moment on, Verstael was enthralled.





	Enthralled

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently this needed to be a thing. I sort of had this idea in my head ever since I saw the trailer for the DLC (which by the way, major spoilers for the trailer, you should probably watch that before you read this, and if you're a person who doesn't watch trailers then...I'll see you on the other side of the DLC, my friend). There was like this weird tension between young Verstael (older!Prompto heheh, I like that touch) and Ardyn. I was into it, wanted to work with a kind of sugar daddy vibe. 
> 
> Now we're here somehow. *shrug* That fandom life, am I right? 
> 
> Mind the tags. This one is kind of all over the place, fam.

It was his life’s work. That place, the promise inside of it. Verstael knew. His research couldn’t be wrong. He was sure. 

They snuck into Lucian territory under cover of night. A small team was all his commanding officer would spare. Perhaps six armed soldiers and a man to steer the boat. And Verstael himself, of course. The rest of the Research and Development department thought he was insane. Verstael wasn’t a greenhorn around the laboratories, but he was far from a veteran. He’d managed to reach mid-ranking officer status (in generous terms, frankly). The only reason Verstael’s commander allowed this mission in the first place was because His Radiance—the Emperor—was fascinated with anything to do with Lucian mythology. Verstael had made sure to send whiffs of his research Iedolas’s way. 

Now here they were. Piloting a boat into Angelguard. 

Verstael understood His Radiance’s obsession. It was the same for him. Unlike the rest of Iedolas’s cohort of researchers though, Verstael thought—no, he _knew_ —that the key to defeating the Lucians did not lie in future developments. No. The key was in the past. 

He’d dug as far back as the records went. Then he went even further, to a place beyond the records. Tomes that even the Lucians themselves probably didn’t look at. Into dungeons and decrepit tombs. After years of dogged searching, Verstael had learned one thing: There was the Founder King and then there was…his Shadow. Something Else. A presence, or some type of entity. A nameless evil not even the most sacrilegious texts could describe. The embodiment of the Lucian’s sins. Locked away in Angelguard for humanity’s safety. An ugly betrayal of Lucian ideals, no longer spoken about. Their anathema and—Verstael was sure—their end.

Delicious. Really, just the idea of such a thing was salient enough for Verstael to spend his twenties (the prime of his youth) neck-deep in literature. Ignoring all the things a young man usually devoted himself to. None of that mattered in the face of some _secret_. Some omnipotent darkness. An esoteric possibility that certainly must exist—it had to! The Lucians surely had some horribly dirty laundry buried somewhere. It made sense. 

The years at work—developing technology to counteract Lucian magic, finding the hidden prison for this evil—was time well-spent. Verstael was never a man who sought the company of other people. He preferred time spent alone with his research. This darkness gave him a purpose. A reason to justify the choice of solitude. For the Emperor, for Niflheim. 

For himself.

Angelguard only revealed itself to ‘those the Astrals deemed worthy.’ ‘At the right time.’ Nothing Verstael couldn’t engineer his way around. Simple really, once he began incorporating Lucian artifacts into his machines. They found Angelguard off the coast of Galdin Quay. Hidden in plain sight. It wasn’t much on the outside, just some rocks and an ancient looking obelisk-like structure in the center.

But inside…inside was supposed to be the end of mankind itself. 

Verstael’s whole body throbbed in excitement. He chomped at his bottom lip and twirled his fingers over his thumb. Humanity’s antithesis. How delightful. His violet eyes flashed in the darkness. 

_Here_. 

It took them less than twenty minutes to break into the obelisk with Verstael’s new weapons. It wasn’t even loud. The stones just fell away with a purplish shimmer of light. As if they wanted to reveal the path. They wanted Verstael to uncover what was inside.

The soldiers went in first. Guns drawn, flashlights out. Verstael trailed behind them, peering over their shoulders at the eerie darkness inside the structure. There was a crackling kind of resonance in the corners where the flashlights’ beams did not touch. But other than that, the eeriest part of this place was how surprisingly average it was. It could have been any other cave in Eos. Except…

There.

In the center. 

Pale flesh and a shock of long crimson hair, cascading over body parts like blood or silk. A face—a _human_ face. Squinting in the light from the flashlights, blinking deliriously. Strange eyes of a hue Verstael couldn’t pinpoint right away because of the distance.

A man? Verstael’s mind nearly broke. A _man_? The legends had spoken of a creature, a shadow. He’d been expecting a monster, an eldritch horror that could drive decent men to insanity…but this was just a man! Naked to the waist, pinned by—

—chains. 

Verstael might have guessed the man to be some kind of sacrifice for the Shadow except for those chains. Those chains were thick, clearly magicked, protruding from the man’s very skin in an impossible way. The man was not strung up like a pig for the slaughter. Rather, he was crucified. Made into an example. A stained glass portrait come to life. Chains weaving in and out of him like lace. Like he was a piece of finery. The only evidence of evil was the ugliness of those chains. Harsh contrast to the beauty of the physical body they held. 

This man was the Shadow of legend. The Shadow was a man. Beautiful and captive. Tortured. A fallen angel. 

A tremor passed through Verstael’s core. His heart—normally a vestigial organ he used for nothing other than circulation—pumped deliriously. Driving him past his untouchable place of logic and reason. Emotions he didn’t have words for leapt to his throat, his head, his chest, his—

“Orders, sir?” 

The soldiers had their guns trained on the man. They were waiting for Verstael’s signal to shoot. Or whatever else. The goal of this mission had been to contain the Shadow and bring it back to the Empire, but here he was already contained. Now how should they proceed? 

In Verstael’s crazed heart, he wanted to encase the man in glass, abscond back to Niflheim, and leave him pinned like a butterfly. A sample to study for the rest of eternity. To do with as he would. Whatever he wanted. His prisoner, his trophy, his doll, his specimen, his paramour—

“Mmmh…” 

The man rolled his head around on his neck. Eyes searching, landing on Verstael. _Seeing_ him.

Gold. Those eyes were golden, Verstael saw now. Like molten metal, free flowing and wild. Fleeting emotions flicked through those irises too fast for Verstael to process. All he could do was stare as the man slowly, painstakingly, began to speak. 

“Please…” His voice was deep and filled with pain. His eyes beseeching. “ _Please_ …help me!” 

Verstael’s mouth went dry. This man—was he even a man? Perhaps he was a daemon taking the form of a man for trickery purposes. …Did it even matter? The sound of this man’s begging rose goosebumps along Verstael’s arms and neck. It was clear what he wanted. He wanted to be freed. 

Verstael suppressed a tremor in his hands. A desire—as strong as any other primal drive, like eating, drinking, and sleeping—to give this man what he wanted. To tear the chains off him using nothing but his bare hands. To cradle that tortured face in his hands and soothe it. Verstael was not a gentle man. Not a doctor, not a parent. But he wanted to smooth away all the suffering in that face. Such beauty should not be tempered with pain—it was a travesty! 

Although…yes, the logical part of Verstael’s brain still worked. It was irrepressible, such was the curse of genius. It had never been part of the plan to free the Shadow. That might be a terrible idea. After all, this was supposed to be humanity’s curse. Releasing it might cause an indiscriminate end to everything in existence. They might all be killed right there on the spot.

Right, of course. He should leave the chains in place and find a way to transport this man back to the Empire so bound. That was the only thing that made sense. 

He opened his mouth to give the order. 

“ _Please_ …” 

The words died on Verstael’s lips. He saw the want in that man’s eyes. The need. He felt an answering need inside of himself—a mounting need he’d never felt before: The need to acquiesce. This man—or creature, whatever he may be—was the discovery of a lifetime. Several millennia’s worth of history. Who was Verstael to deny him? How could he stare in the face of such exquisite finery and turn away? It was impossible. Verstael’s body and mouth would not allow him to go against the wishes of magnificence in its purest form.

“Sir? Your orders?”

Forcing himself to swallow, Verstael spoke with a commanding sweep of his hand. “Cut him loose.” 

The soldiers faltered. Even they could sense the danger in such an act. “…Sir?” 

“I said, cut him loose. _Now_.” Verstael wanted to stare daggers at the fools around him, his signature move. 

But he could not look away from the man in front of him.

“Y-yes, sir!” The uneasy moment passed and the soldiers scrambled to comply. Using the same tools they’d used to break into Angelguard, they sawed through the chains one by one. 

The Accursed stared in awe as they worked. His sculpted muscles twitched with each new inch of freedom he was granted. A feral look gathered in his eyes as the chains fell away. 

Finally, just as the last chain was cut, the man fell to his feet. Completely untethered. Verstael expected him to sink to his knees—he’d likely been in this prison for what…over a thousand years? Surely he was weak?—but he did not. No, he landed on his feet with an otherworldly grace. A leaf alighting on water’s surface. 

The ground around them shook.

All at once, the helpless plea in the man’s face disappeared. It was instantly replaced by a grin—wide and monstrous. He threw his head back and screamed. It was not a human scream. It was loud, yes, but not in sound. In energy. The man’s appearance morphed into a daemonic version of itself, covered in dark fluid and blue flesh. Blackish purple miasma exploded around him and permeated the bodies of everyone in the vicinity. Reaching far beyond Angelguard into the outside world.

Verstael felt the miasma in his soul. He knew it was impure; his mouth filled with a foul taste and his bones felt sick. But, his _soul_. His soul rejoiced. There was _so much_ power in that blackness. Unadulterated magic of the darkest kind. The kind Verstael had been dreaming of for years.

_Yes_. This was it. The real thing. This man—his power was incomprehensible! He was _everything!_

Suddenly Verstael found himself sporting a raging hard on. He almost forgot where he was and cupped himself over his armored pants. He hadn’t felt this kind of excitement in…ever. It was visceral, consuming. He wanted _everything_ and it was entirely within his grasp. All he needed to do was reach out and touch this man. If they joined then Verstael would feel this power coursing through his own body. 

And it would feel fucking _good_. Better than anything. The stuff of all his fantasies—a strength that dominated even as Verstael forced it to submit. A mind-shattering climax that left his soul invigorated. Transforming him into something godlike, invincible. Sweet pleasure and ultimate triumph. 

(…Also, a pair of willing arms. A warm embrace. The feeling of being understood through and through. These were the quieter parts of Verstael’s fantasy.) 

Then in a flash it was over. The man wore himself out with that scream. Back to his normal form, he collapsed in a heap. Breathing but unaware. 

Verstael ran to his side. His hands hovered around the man’s crumpled body. He wanted to touch, but he was unused to offering comfort. Or healing. His hands knew only the cruel processes of taming metal, tinkering, and experimentation. Besides, that daemonic energy had been so strong it almost scared him. He’d better do more research before touching this man directly. 

It would be prudent to let someone else do what he should not. Someone expendable. 

He gestured to the soldiers and ordered them to carry the man to the boat. It was time to leave Lucian territory before their presence was discovered. 

The soldiers did as they were told. Just like that, the Accursed was free and in Empire custody. They left Angelguard far behind.

Although, Verstael had a suspicion about the chains. He thought perhaps they had snuck aboard the boat with them. A souvenir. That feeling grew stronger when he looked at the man’s shirtless, barely stirring form. 

Yes, the chains were still there. Just…moved.

___________________________________________________

He decided to keep the man in an examination room in his wing of the laboratory. It was a standard room, an examination table with manacles and a soft chair along the wall, meant for the scientists. A two-way mirror for observation purposes. Of course the door locked firmly when closed. 

Verstael had very nearly put the man in manacles, before he realized they would be nothing more than decoration. Not even the reinforced seal on the locked door would be enough to hold this man if he did not want to be there. The only thing that could contain him was ancient Lucian magic, which they did not have and knew nothing about. 

So. Better to let him be. Try to get him to cooperate. 

Verstael stood on the other side of the mirror for several hours, watching the man slowly come to his senses. When he awoke, he seemed suspicious of his surroundings. Not the people coming in and out of the room to question him. No, instead he marveled at the fluorescent lightbulbs overhead and the texture of the metal on the examination table. He walked the circumference of the room a few times, touching what he could, before growing bored. After that, he laid languidly on the examination table and refused to answer any questions. 

The only thing he’d say to any of the low-ranking scientists that came to question him (expendables, all of them, just in case) was a request: “I’d like to see a history book, please. As exhaustive as you can find.” 

The scientists did not comply. Protocol was not to give in to prisoners’ demands until a goal had been established, information exchanged. This man was giving them nothing. 

Verstael chewed his thumbnail and thought. Why had this man not destroyed them yet? They asked him several times what he wanted now that he was free and the only thing he’d ask for was a history book. Surely he wanted revenge on the Lucians for imprisoning him! Anything else was inconceivable! But he did not ask for them. He just wanted a damn book. 

“His Radiance is on his way, sir,” someone informed Verstael.

Damn. Out of time. Of course Iedolas was coming to see this discovery for himself. Verstael needed some way to prove this man was indeed the Shadow of legend. The power they had been searching for. 

Grunting irritably, Verstael sprinted to the libraries and retrieved the most far-reaching history textbook he could find. Certainly not exhaustive, but at least it had a timeline of Lucian history. He ran back to the examination room and barged inside without any kind of plan. 

Back in this man’s presence, Verstael felt his skin prickle. His bravado and general state of irritation (two norms for him) shrunk back somewhere inside of him. In their place were less manageable feelings: Gasping curiosity and hot-blooded adrenaline. 

He handed the book to the man wordlessly. Perhaps it was better to speak as little as possible. At least for now. Until a clear interrogation tactic could be established. 

Eyes widening, the Accursed took the book. He hummed in appreciation or thanks. Then he started at the beginning and thumbed through every single page. 

Verstael sat in the chair and let him read. Patience was not a virtue of his, never had been, but there was no other path now. They could not force this man to do anything. Furthermore, Iedolas was probably outside already. Verstael had no desire to confront the Emperor and explain how this unkempt vagrant leisurely reading a book was the ultimate weapon he’d promised.

Only when the last page had been turned did the Accursed look up again. He blinked slowly and sighed. “Two thousand years…” His voice was distant, tinged with something akin to sadness. 

He glared daggers at the fluorescent lights again. “Two thousand years. Somnus’s lineage still reigns. And I…” He held one hand up to the light. Some miasma oozed from his pores, perhaps on command. He squeezed tightly and it disappeared. 

Then he stared at the floor. Lost in thought.

“I…” Verstael began. He was not usually a man who faltered in speech. But those two thousand years weighed heavily on him too. It wasn’t every day he met a creature as ancient as this. Nor as…captivating. “I’ve been searching for you.” 

The man raised his gaze. Turning his attention to Verstael now. “Have you.” He stood and slowly closed the distance between them. “Well, you found me.” 

With every step the Accursed took, Verstael was sure he was about to die. The look in that man’s eyes was as dark as death. Something radiated off of him that had nothing to do with daemonic energy—or, maybe it did. Verstael couldn’t be certain. He just knew he was about to face judgement. In this life or the next. 

Maybe this death would be glorious, he reasoned. It was some consolation. Because running would be futile. He was entirely at this creature’s mercy and they both knew it. 

Less than hair’s breadth away, the Accursed bent down so that their faces were almost touching. Verstael was breathing so hard his shoulders shook. Carefully, the man brought his hands to Verstael’s face and held him. Keeping him place. His hands were large and rough, but he was holding Verstael gently. 

For a moment Verstael thought they might kiss. He stared at the man’s lips in anticipation. Dazed with the sudden desire to taste. 

But it did not happen. Instead, the man brushed some of Verstael’s sandy blond bangs out of the way and pressed their foreheads together. Hard. Immobilizing them both. Pressing with such intensity he might have been trying to squeeze the thoughts out of Verstael’s brain. Or out of his own. 

They breathed the same air. Verstael sat and marveled at the feeling of the Accursed’s skin. The same as human skin…he imagined. He’d never been held like this before. But he could not feel the miasma he had earlier. 

His soul remembered that touch though. It trembled to be so close to this man. 

The Accursed’s hands were chilled but his face was warm. Fascinating. 

“…Are you real?” the man grumbled quietly into the space between their mouths. His eyes were closed but Verstael’s were open.

Ah. Now he understood. 

Nodding in the man’s tight grip, Verstael cautiously covered the Accursed’s hands with his own. He meant the gesture to be comforting, but he knew his hand were calculating and cold. They could only be what they were, what little Verstael had to offer. Yet, the man flinched when he was touched all the same. Imperceptibly, although of course Verstael noticed.

“Yes, I’m real,” he told the Accursed. Confidently. “Very, rest assured. Are you real?” 

The immortal opened his eyes. He pulled away a fraction. “I suppose that’s a fair question. Though I’m afraid my answer might be rather subjective.” He paused. “Yes, I think. I am.” 

Verstael ran his thumb along the back of the man’s hand. “You seem quite real to me,” he agreed. “What is your name?” 

The man straightened his shoulders. He ran his eyes all over Verstael’s face as he answered, “Ardyn Lucis Caelum.” 

Naturally, Verstael focused on the last name. “The line of kings…?” His throat went dry. “How is that…possible?” 

The man—Ardyn—broke into a smile. He took several steps back (Verstael bemoaned the loss of contact, but he did not look away for a second). “That’s a long story. Very long by now, considering the time.” He stood all the way in the far corner of the room. “So I’ll just give you a small demonstration, shall I? To clear up any doubt.” 

As Verstael watched, Ardyn twitched his shoulders with a short, erratic gesture. Almost like a dance. As he did, glowing red light engulfed him and formed a halo around his body—swords, polearms, daggers, all manner of weapons appeared like a set of wings at his back. Silhouettes, anyway. As brilliant as the genuine article. 

“The Royal Armiger…” Verstael said, needlessly. Of course it was. It could be only one thing. 

The legends were true. 

He glanced at the mirror behind him, hoping His Radiance was indeed behind that glass. For the moment, the only thing reflected there was his own bewildered, enthralled expression and Ardyn’s half-naked form. 

Verstael had never seen himself so mesmerized. And even without the Armiger, Ardyn’s beauty eclipsed everything else in the room. Everything in Verstael’s vision.

He had a feeling this sight would become more familiar to him. His own enthrallment, Ardyn’s radiance.

…He hoped.

________________________________________________

With his identity confirmed and unchallenged, Ardyn became very cooperative. He sat comfortably on the examination table and answered all of Verstael’s questions. He explained his history, the story of his demise. The nature of his curse, his powers as he understood them. When asked for demonstrations, Ardyn agreed. He allowed other scientists to come in and take samples of his blood as well as the ooze that came and went across his skin. What Ardyn called ‘Scourge.’ 

He even showed them the extent of his immortality. He slit his own throat on the examination table and they all watched as his body magically healed itself. True immortality. Virtual indestructibility. 

That alone would have made Verstael’s cock hard, if it hadn’t been already. Which it had. For most of the examination. Ardyn’s voice and mannerisms had some effect on Verstael that he could not explain. He found the man’s whole state of being to be the most sensual, attractive thing he’d seen in his entire life. Would surely ever see. And he could not get enough. Did not want to leave his side. He kept finding more tests to do, more things. Before he realized, nearly a day had passed and he was summoned behind the mirror to speak with His Radiance.

Iedolas was beyond pleased. He shook Verstael’s hand—like an equal! The highest honor anyone in the Empire had ever been bestowed!—and promoted him on the spot. Gave him his own laboratory for the express purpose of discovering the secrets of Lucian magic. Of finding a way to harness the Accursed’s power and give them a weapon. 

Basically, a laboratory for whatever Verstael wanted. He had license to do…well, anything. 

It was a dream come true. Too much to process all at once. 

“If you’re at a stopping point with all these tests,” Ardyn chimed from the examination room. “There are a few more things I’d like to request.” 

Iedolas’s council—present alongside the Emperor, as a matter of course—immediately launched into a debate about what they should allow the Accursed. How far they should give in to his demands. Certainly there had to be limits! What if he were to ask for the Imperial throne? For the Emperor’s head on a plate? For riches untold and a harem to match, the stuff only royalty was allowed?

Verstael wanted to laugh in their faces. The only logical conclusion was to give Ardyn everything. He was more royalty than Iedolas would ever be, and he was more deserving of the throne of Lucis than anyone. Iedolas’s head on a plate seemed like a small price for Ardyn’s happiness, but Verstael wisely kept that thought to himself.

“I’ll listen to his demands,” Verstael volunteered. “And I’ll decide for myself which ones deserve to be honored. Of course I’ll submit everything to His Radiance’s council for approval, but I nominate myself as his handler.” 

Iedolas readily agreed. “Yes, splendid. You should be the one to manage him, Besithia. You seem to have…” The Emperor’s eyes flashed and he paused momentarily. “…an understanding of sorts with that creature. I’ll allow this.” 

Verstael’s heart sang at those words—not because of the Emperor’s allowance, since he’d already acknowledged a higher power than that simple fascist regardless, but because he hoped they were true. That he did in fact have an understanding with Ardyn. 

It must be true if others could sense it, right? 

Heart pumping at record speeds, Verstael went back into the examination room to hear Ardyn’s requests. 

“First, I would like a bath. Or access to your nearest hot spring, if you don’t have running water here.” Ardyn listed his demands with the ease of a man who expected them to be followed. “I’ll also need a clean change of clothes. Something comfortable for now. Just to make me presentable.” He tossed his crimson hair over one shoulder. “Then I’d like a tour of your facilities. This seems to be a place of science and I’d very much like to see what humanity has accomplished in the past few millennia.” 

So far those requests were nothing too outlandish. Almost comical in their simplicity. But Verstael was still stunned by the flippancy in Ardyn’s tone. He faltered, unsure how quickly he should agree. Of course he would agree in the end, but how eager should he appear in front of Ardyn? What was wise?

“And I’d like your name as well, my good man,” Ardyn added. He settled more comfortably into his seat. 

Or at least, that’s what Verstael assumed he was doing. The fact of the matter was that Ardyn spread his legs just a bit where he was sitting. Letting his legs hang open, covered still by the long cloth around his waist. But painfully suggestive of the _presence_ underneath.

Wisdom left Verstael in a short breath. 

“Certainly,” he agreed right away. “My name is Verstael Besithia. I’m the lead scientist of this facility.” As of just a moment ago. “I’ll…you can direct all your queries to me and I’ll see that they’re answered in good time.” 

“Excellent.” Ardyn grinned at him. Showing some tooth. His teeth were remarkably white, considering. They reminded Verstael of fangs. But the thought was not unappealing. 

Onto the first request. “Follow me.” 

There were not many bathtubs around the laboratory, definitely no hot springs, and Verstael was unsure about taking Ardyn off the premises for the time being. So, he led him out of the examination room into the scientists’ quarters. It raised some eyebrows, but Verstael did not care in the slightest. He took Ardyn to the nearest washroom. Meager accommodations for royalty. At least there was a stand up shower. 

Ardyn’s eyes flicked around the room. “Shall I wait while the bath is drawn…?” he asked, unmoved by anything he saw. 

Of course. Verstael smiled at the same time he realized the size of the gap in Ardyn’s experiences. There were so many things to show him. The world was an entirely different place now than it was in Ardyn’s time. In a plethora of ways. Verstael wanted to show them all to this man. Every single thing and more. The world and all its secrets, as far as Verstael had been able to uncover in his years of research. Everything. 

They could start with this. 

“Here.” Verstael opened the shower door and turned on the faucet. 

Ardyn reared his head as water burst from the shower head. He watched in rapt fascination as Verstael adjusted the temperature and explained the hot and cold knobs. He stepped forward curiously when Verstael asked if the temperature was to his liking. 

Not waiting for an answer, Verstael took Ardyn’s hand and held it under the spray. A visible shiver ran down Ardyn’s spine. The moment his body relaxed against the weirdness of the invention—and the advent of water, which he’d been denied for some millennia—Ardyn sighed in pleasure. 

Without any preamble, he unwrapped the cloth around his waist. Letting it fall to the ground. Completely nude, Ardyn stepped into the shower and shoved his body underneath the spray. He moaned in joy as the water hit him. 

Lightning might have struck Verstael where he stood. He wouldn’t have noticed one way or the other. 

Perhaps nudity was a more casual thing in the past. Yes that…must be the explanation. 

Still, Versatile was rooted to the spot. He drank in the sight of Ardyn’s bare body like a man dying of thirst. Chiseled muscles, a lean waist, a shapely backside, strong legs. And what hung between them…Verstael’s lips twitched at the sight. Trying to form words—words, yes, his strong point or…something—and failing. That, _that_ , was…

Logically, Verstael knew it was an organ like any other. Also logically, he knew his own preference for men and their more intimate parts. The shape and size of which were reflected before his very eyes, like something directly out of his fantasies. So he could expect to feel some attraction in this situation.

But _this_ feeling? 

Overwhelmed to the point of tears by such beauty. Everything Ardyn was, standing under the water while it soaked him. His moans were just a human being rejoicing at the revival of their humanity, surely, but…to Verstael they sounded so lewd. 

He wanted to drop to his knees and worship at the shrine of this man’s body. He wanted to lick the water droplets off Ardyn’s skin like a person receiving communion. He wanted to bury his face against the short crimson hairs betweenArdyn’s legs. To put his mouth to work however Ardyn desired. In whatever way he asked. He wanted to cradle the soft globes of Ardyn’s ass and feel the hidden place at his center—oh, Eos and everything alive, would he be allowed? Such a holy place, would Verstael ascend to omnipotence just from touching Ardyn there? 

(Would Ardyn like Verstael to touch him? Was he thinking the same thing? Was he the kind of man who would make Verstael beg first? Or was he merciful, generous with the bounty of his body? Would he let Verstael hold him and then…hold him in return?) 

None of these feelings were things Verstael contemplated very often. And Ardyn, being a creature of immortal power, had claim to the first and last decision on everything Verstael might secretly desire. There could be no way to sway him, no coercion. It was at once the sweetest kind of yearning and the most devastating frustration. 

Ardyn held all the cards. 

Verstael’s mouth watered. His knees grew weak from the desire to kneel before this man. He was confused and aroused and distantly angry. 

While Verstael stared, open-mouthed and pitiful, Ardyn eyed him curiously. It took several minutes for Verstael to notice. When he did, Ardyn held his gaze and continued bathing. Unperturbed, yet he offered nothing more. He was allowing Verstael to look. A gift in and of itself, except for the fact that Verstael was a greedy bastard. He wanted to be invited into the warm halo of Ardyn’s personal space. Such a special place—his face remembered the touch, and his soul ached at the memory of the miasma. That miasma was part of Ardyn as well. He’d give anything to feel it again. 

As Ardyn finished, he expertly turned off the faucet. Evidently he’d been paying attention when Verstael explained how it worked. A quick study. Perfect.

He stepped out of the shower and stood naked before Verstael. A dripping wet vision of temptation. All other thoughts in Verstael’s head were silent except the urge to put his mouth on that body. Did Ardyn expect him to do it? Was that why he was standing there like that? 

Yes, it made sense! Verstael happily bent over to begin— 

“And my clothes?” Ardyn interrupted. His words were short and they stopped Verstael in his tracks. “What of the clothes I requested?” 

Oh. Verstael blinked and straightened. Right. The clothes. Of course.

“I’ll…” Verstael’s mind was still so infuriatingly hazy. But he knew what he had to do. “I’ll go get them.” 

“Thank you, my dear.” Ardyn’s pleased voice curled around Verstael’s ears like wisps of smoke. He was looking at Verstael with an expression of satisfaction. Vague gratitude.

It made Verstael blush. 

He swallowed the rest of his desire and moved quickly to get Ardyn an outfit that fit his parameters. Something comfortable, he’d asked for. 

A simple request. Easy enough to provide. And worth it, for the honey in Ardyn’s voice when he was satisfied.

_____________________________________________________________

Now that the Accursed had been discovered, Verstael had a new purpose: Harness his power. And, coincidentally, acquiesce to everything Ardyn asked for. At first the requests were quite reasonable. He showed Ardyn all of his secrets. The classified parts of the facilities. The intricacies of the projects he was working on. Ardyn followed everything with a keen eye. Thirsty for knowledge and conversation. 

They discussed Lucis, of course. But in the beginning, Ardyn did not seem interested in the place. He read voraciously. Spent many days and nights just in the libraries, absorbing information at a rapid pace to fill in the gaps of everything that had happened since he’d been gone. It seemed he did not need to eat or sleep. When he asked for more books about Lucis, Verstael provided them. In return, Ardyn submitted to more tests. He agreed to watch on the sidelines as Verstael began working on the project His Radiance asked for: Magicked weapons. 

It was slow-going in the early stages. But Ardyn kept his word and observed. 

After weeks of this, Ardyn grew bored of the facilities. He wanted to explore Niflheim. He told Verstael of this wish and Verstael balked on instinct. Ardyn was not exactly a normal citizen; he did not know the customs of Niflheim and he was, quite honestly, a danger to the average person. What with the chance of exposure to Scourge and his general lack of awareness…Verstael was against the idea of Ardyn going outside on principle. 

“Hmm.” Ardyn toyed with the hair around his shoulders. “Well, I was hoping you could accompany me, Verstael my good man.” His golden eyes gleamed with hidden meaning. Something Verstael longed to understand. “I’m certain I would need a guide and there is no one else I can trust with my needs the way I trust you, after all…” 

The compliment eroded Verstael’s counterarguments. Yes, actually, Ardyn would need a guide and it could be the two of them. Ardyn hanging on his words and listening as Verstael explained everything…it was a rather enticing offer. 

So he agreed in the end.

Ardyn marveled at the modern world. Not out loud, or at least not that loudly. But he seemed to love the idea of simple things. Umbrellas, street lights, pavement. Window displays in storefronts. He did not love the idea of cars, not right away when he almost stepped in front of one, seconds before Verstael pulled him out of the way. He cursed them for being noisy and ‘patently unsafe.’ They weren’t unsafe, Verstael pointed out, if you looked where you were going. Ardyn seemed not to hear him. 

He did possess the warping ability of Lucian kings. But his was flashier, tinged with dark magic. Verstael expressly told him not to use his power in view of the public, but Ardyn almost immediately wanted to see the top of the skyscrapers. Because of course he did. 

“Oh, come, I won’t be a moment,” Ardyn argued. Terrible logic for a terrible plan. 

But, Ardyn put his hand on Verstael’s shoulder. Nothing intimate. Just a brief point of contact over Verstael’s armor (which had grown more lavish now that he was excelling through the ranks). Still, it was enough to remind Verstael of bare skin and miasma. That body under the spray…

He took Ardyn behind a building and told him to be quick about it.

As he watched the immortal launch himself into the air, Verstael realized this trip was probably getting out of hand. Probably not just the trip, either. Ardyn was not at all commanding or ruthless in the way Iedolas had feared. But he was also not something that could be controlled.

Ah well. Verstael steeled himself as Ardyn landed back on solid ground some time later with all the grace of a cat working on its tenth life. Control was an illusion after all. 

The day was a long one. Ardyn dragged Verstael into several clothing stores, trying to find his own sense of style. He tried on clothes for hours and hours. Whenever Verstael’s patience began to wear thin, Ardyn pulled him into the dressing room. Suddenly needing ‘help’ with his ridiculous outfits. It was ludicrous work, but Verstael did it. He helped Ardyn into and out of garments that had no business being in a clothing store to begin with. 

And the outfit Ardyn settled on in the end? Mind-bending to say the least. 

“A garnish of crows feathers, I think,” Ardyn opined. Pointing to a haute couture display in one of the most expensive stores in the city. 

“…Why?” Verstael asked, his wallet already quite light after the day’s venture. (Ardyn had no money; all the actual purchasing fell under Verstael’s purview as the ‘guide.’ And he bought everything Ardyn asked for because…well.) 

Ardyn shrugged. “I suppose there isn’t a reason. But it looks dashing, doesn’t it?”

Verstael couldn’t disagree more. “It looks asinine and you won’t be able to fit in the doorway of most places. I mean, a modicum of sense might benefit you more.” 

At that, Ardyn put both hands on Verstael’s shoulders. Holding him in place. “Alright, alright. But consider this: I have the uncanny ability to pull off any number of asinine appearances. I even make chains look good. You remember?” 

Naturally, Verstael remembered. And yes, it was true. Ardyn looked fucking amazing strung up in chains. Unfairly gorgeous.

To hammer his point home, Ardyn brushed his thumb along Verstael’s cheekbone. Tracing it down to the scruff on his chin. The peach fuzz goatee Verstael tended religiously. He didn’t have the genetic gift of manly body hair, so he did what he could. The beard made him look older, at least, so people would stop calling a man well into his thirties ‘kid.’ 

Now when Ardyn touched him there, Verstael shivered in delight. Tendrils of sensation rippled through him. 

“…Fine, then,” Verstael relented. Leaning into Ardyn’s touch. “This will be the last store in the garment district for today, though, yes?” 

“Of course, darling!” Ardyn held his arms out wide. As if wrongfully accused. He grinned and led the way to his prize. A store where the clerks walked around in foppish get-ups, no doubt sporting their own merchandise. Part of the advertisement.

Once Ardyn’s ridiculous raven-wing extension was purchased, Verstael sighed in a mix of shame and relief. Money was no object for him now that he basically ran the Research and Development department, but. He could barely fathom the price he’d spent on Ardyn today. All to make him look…like that.

Asinine. And still brutally attractive. Yes. 

“Are we done here?” Verstael asked impatiently. 

“Ah…” Ardyn scrutinized the face of the clerk who rang them up. Rudely so. Analyzing him down to the last detail, as if figuring out some grand puzzle. Verstael paused and waited for Ardyn to tell him something mystical—in the next three seconds or else he would have to carry the immortal out for acting like a lunatic. 

But then Ardyn broke into a satisfied grin. He plucked the hat off the clerk’s head—a silly, retro-styled fedora—and put it on himself. 

“There.” Ardyn gave Verstael a small twirl. “I think we’re done now.” He tipped his new hat at the clerk on their way out. 

Even Verstael had to chuckle at that. Ardyn was a creature unlike any other. In more ways than one. 

The pit of affection he harbored for the man stretched a little deeper each day. Burrowing down further, to a place inside Verstael he hadn’t known existed. He…didn’t know how to feel about any of it. How to react. But he knew well enough to appreciate the moments he had in Ardyn’s company. Privately, in his own way.

As they walked back to the laboratory, Ardyn’s eye gravitated towards a sports car that zoomed past them. 

“What was that?” the Accursed asked. Drawn as if by a magnet. 

“A luxury sports car,” Verstael answered. He already had some idea where this was headed. “You hate those, remember?” 

“Well, I didn’t know cars could be like that…so sleek and elegant!” Ardyn turned to Verstael with a gleam in his eye. “I want one.” 

Bidding his credit goodbye—hell, Verstael would have to charge this one to the Emperor Himself maybe, if that were even possible—he let Ardyn lead him to the nearest car dealership.

Although he told himself he despised all of it, Verstael quietly noted one very big upside: He’d have to teach Ardyn how to drive. Wait was that an upside or a downside?

In his heart, Verstael already knew the answer.

__________________________________________________________

Months bled into each other. Verstael became obsessed with his work manufacturing a new breed of weapons for the Empire. The fact that he needed to spend time with Ardyn to produce these weapons only made it more addictive. 

These weapons…magitech, they were calling it, because it was a dark mixture of Lucian magic and the latest technology. This magitech was the glorious child of Ardyn and Verstael’s ingenuity. It was something they created together. Power like the world had never seen. Beauty. Destruction. Desire. Immortality.

It was everything. Ardyn was…the work was…

The delineation between these thoughts became murky over time. The more Verstael threw himself into the work, the more he chased after the want in his heart—want for so many things. Not just for power. Not just for Ardyn and his body either, but what that body represented. What it meant. The desire to show the world Ardyn’s true beauty, to force the simple-minded to appreciate the gift they had been given and so foolishly thrown away. All of these things intertwined themselves until Verstael could not tell them apart. 

Ardyn’s attention slowly turned to Lucis. That spelled disaster, obviously, but wasn’t that the point? Hadn’t they released the Accursed to bring ruin upon Lucis? Hadn’t they wanted the destruction at all costs…hadn’t they?

But Verstael felt his heart fill with gravel as Ardyn began to nurse an obsession of his own. He didn’t know why. Because he couldn’t explain his feelings, he ignored them. He ignored them until he forgot they were there. Mostly.

One night, Ardyn came to Verstael in a mood. His eyes were dark and his shirt was undone. It wasn’t unusual for him to appear before Verstael in various states of undress (the boundaries in their relationship were also a murky thing). Although, it never failed to have an effect on Verstael regardless. He glanced up from his work and watched Ardyn saunter his way over to him. 

“I need a favor, my darling.” Ardyn buried his hand in Verstael’s thickening locks. Some time ago Ardyn lopped off his luxurious crimson mane, leaving it in an untamed bob. Verstael had never quite forgiven him. He began to grow his own hair out of revenge and whimsical nostalgia. 

Of course a favor. Verstael turned to face Ardyn, offering up his full attention. He was going to say yes anyway, so. He could indulge himself a little. His tired violet eyes poured over the sight of Ardyn’s bare torso where it peeked out from the shirt. Ageless and perfect. Forever. 

Feeling himself begin to harden, Verstael ran his hand down Ardyn’s neck and pulled the immortal’s shirt open wider. More skin for him to appreciate. He traced a pattern along Ardyn’s collarbone. “Yes, and? Go on.” 

Ardyn sidled up to him. Letting his shirt dangle off one shoulder. “I need to go to Lucis. To the Citadel.” 

“Mmm.” Verstael had expected this sooner or later. It was hardly a surprise to hear. An invasion was already in the works, of course. Ardyn knew that (since he’d persuaded Verstael to make up the title of ‘chancellor’ just to have a place in the Emperor’s council). 

Figuring this was a meandering conversation, and heavily distracted by the meal in front of him, Verstael ran his lips over the skin on Ardyn’s chest. Where his fingers had just been. 

This man tasted heavenly. It was almost unthinkable to know that he was actually mostly a daemon. Verstael suckled Ardyn’s collarbone like a man drinking his fill of ale.

“All in due time, Ardyn,” Verstael reminded him between licks. “The plan is underway.” 

“I’m not talking about the plan.” 

Ardyn’s body grew cold against Verstael’s lips. He could sense the impatience in those words. It gave him pause. He stopped his ministrations and looked up at Ardyn. There was coldness in the Accursed’s face too.

“I see.” Verstael sat back in his chair. “Then what are you talking about?”

Ardyn climbed into Verstael’s lap. A place he was familiar with, where he knew exactly how to make himself at home. On instinct, Verstael’s hands wrapped around Ardyn’s waist to hold him in place. At the same time Ardyn curled his arms around Verstael’s neck. Locking them together. 

“I need to go to Lucis _now_. On my own. Unhindered by the armies and the invasion and all that drudgery.” 

Pure insanity. Although that was never too far out of left field for Ardyn. Still, Verstael couldn’t see the line of thought. “Why?” he asked. 

Ardyn bent down so he could speak into Verstael’s ear. “I need to confront that man who calls himself king. Somnus’s descendent. I want to see for myself what he’s capable of.” 

Ice swarmed Verstael’s veins. His throat constricted around air and he gripped Ardyn’s hips tighter than he should. _Protective_. 

“You…want to face Regis?” Verstael could barely get the words out. 

Ardyn grunted. “Is that his name, that false king? The Astral’s pet?” 

Sputtering, Verstael grabbed Ardyn’s face and forced him to make eye contact. “Yes, that’s his name! And why, in heaven and hell and all things logical, would you want to face him? We don’t know what he’s capable of—by the Throne, Ardyn, you understand why there’s a plan in the first place, right?” 

“This is different—” Ardyn wasn’t hearing him.

“It’s because the Lucian king’s magic might be the only thing that can hurt you.” Verstael cupped Ardyn’s face. He tried to smooth the seriousness from beneath those golden eyes. Wiping his thumbs across that patch of skin over and over. “The legends speak of a chosen one and that chosen one will be a king. We don’t know what that means yet—”

Ardyn shook his head. Dislodging Verstael’s hands in the process. “That man—Regis or whatever his name is—isn’t the chosen one.” 

“We can’t be sure of that.” Verstael shook his own head in disbelief. “Ardyn, how can you be _sure_?” 

Incomprehensibly, Ardyn started to chuckle. He kissed Verstael’s forehead, a brief touch of lips, and said, “Actually I can't be. I don’t know what that man is or isn’t and I don’t know anything about this chosen one. That’s why I have to go there, don’t you understand? I need to see it all for myself and come to my own conclusions.” His eyes turned cloudy. “I need to make up my mind.” 

Verstael saw the haunted look in that gaze. He recognized it well enough. The gravel in his heart churned mercilessly. 

“I’m asking you to make me a weapon,” Ardyn continued. Unhindered. “One that can undo Lucian magic. It should be easy enough, you’ve done it before, but this one needs to be stronger. They’ll have protective seals and enchantments all over the Citadel, I expect.” Ardyn’s expression turned steely. “And I want to see the Crystal if I can…”

“The Crystal?! Ardyn, have you gone mad—”

To silence him, Ardyn pulled Verstael in for a kiss. He plundered his mouth with every ounce of vigor Verstael needed from him. At first fast and demanding, leaving no room for argument, and then gradually softer. Passionate. He licked Verstael’s bottom lip over and over, drawing the tongue out of Verstael’s mouth in the process.

When Ardyn kissed him like that, the rest of the world fell away. Everything that should and shouldn’t be stopped mattering. As his tongue lolled out of his mouth in a sloppy display of hunger, Verstael raked his hands over Ardyn’s torso. Everywhere, his back, his ribs, his abdomen, his chest, his nipples. Scrabbling for touch. 

Somewhere in the far corner of his own perception, Verstael knew what this was about. He knew that Ardyn was gunning for self destruction, that in some way he’d stopped caring about his own existence, and that hurt worse than anything.It was a type of pain too horrible to imagine, so Verstael didn’t think about it for too long. 

Instead he decided to throw Ardyn on the floor and ravish him. 

With Ardyn underneath him, kissing was easier. Everything was easier. He could pry Ardyn’s legs open and push himself in between. He could moan into the man’s neck as Ardyn took Verstael’s hand and pressed it to his cock. Letting Verstael fondle and squeeze him to his heart’s content. 

They were both groaning now. The coldness from earlier was rapidly replaced with an urgent heat. A imminent explosion that had an ever-decreasing half-life. The need they shared in that moment, and all moments like this. 

“Verstael, _please_ ,” Ardyn begged. Breathy and desperate. “Please, do this for me…” 

Possessiveness and animal lust overtook Verstael. He pawed at Ardyn’s pants until they were open, then he plunged inside to get a firm grip on that cock. The cock that had ruled Verstael’s life ever since the moment he’d seen it. That heavy, silken organ. Hot and hard with blood. Evidence of Ardyn’s life-force and humanity. Things Verstael would not trade for the world. 

He wanted to take Ardyn’s cock into his mouth, all the way down his throat until he was choking and Ardyn was coming. He loved making Ardyn cum. He would do it all day every day if such a thing were possible. He would do it until Ardyn wanted to live again. And then he would fuck him and make him enjoy this life. 

But Ardyn stopped Verstael before he could get his mouth around his manhood. He locked eyes with him, panting, and made another offer. 

“If you do this for me, Verstael, I’ll give you what you _really_ want.”

Of course, Verstael had to hear this out. That cock—so close to his lips!—was calling his name, but Ardyn was nothing if not temptation embodied. Verstael was so weak to temptation.

“And what is that?” he demanded, pinning Ardyn’s hips to the ground to get him in place.

Without warning, Ardyn’s form shifted. Daemonic ooze dripped from his eyes, his mouth, his scalp, his pores. His eyes inverted their hue and his skin darkened to an unnatural color. He held a hand up to Verstael’s face and Verstael watched as infectious, living slime coursed along his lover’s skin. 

“The Scourge,” Ardyn answered simply. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? This?” 

He pressed his fingers to Verstael’s lips. Without a second thought, Verstael took them in his mouth. He lapped at the ooze, sucking those daemonic fingers like they were a cock. He slathered them with attention. Swallowing the ooze, feeling a tingle as it entered him.

“There, my dear, that’s it.” Ardyn fed his fingers deeper into Verstael’s mouth. “I’ll let you taste it. As often as you want. Until you can feel it… _living_ inside of you, the way I do.” 

Laid bare, exposed in his secret, sacrilegious desire, Verstael moaned and nodded around those fingers. Yes, the Scourge is what he wanted more than anything. Somehow Ardyn had figured this out, but…did he know _why_?

Did Ardyn think Verstael just wanted the power behind this curse? That he wanted to use it to harness daemonic energy from himself and create unspeakable things? Things he’d only dreamt of? Because yes, Verstael wanted that. 

But that wasn’t all.

The real reason Verstael wanted the Scourge inside of him was because of the miasma. That moment when they’d first met and Ardyn’s miasma seeped into Verstael’s soul…it was a feeling Verstael would spend the rest of his life chasing. A oneness, a completeness. Beyond sex and words and thought. A _connection._ A feeling that he was not alone in his own skin. That he had a piece of Ardyn to carry around inside his core for the rest of forever. That he could belong to Ardyn and be owned himself in the same way. In equal measure. 

Love. If that’s what love was. And if not, then just Scourge. Just the darkness and the way it tied them together.

Verstael wanted that. More than anything.

He couldn’t be sure if Ardyn understood that or not. 

As he drank the ooze from Ardyn’s fingers, he found that he didn’t care. The reality was that he would give in to Ardyn’s suicidal demands. Because Ardyn did not belong to him and he never would. That much should have been clear from the beginning. So. If he could not bind them together and live as one for all eternity, then Verstael would take the Scourge. He’d take that and concede the rest. 

“Alright, my love,” Verstael consented at last. “I’ll make your weapon for you.” 

Ardyn broke out into a horrifying, daemonic facsimile of a grin. “Ah. Thank you. I knew you’d say yes in the end.” 

Honestly, so had Verstael. It was only ever a matter of time. Of the right offer. Maybe that’s all it ever would be between them.

The weight of Ardyn’s daemonic essence settled in Verstael’s stomach. He could feel it like a hook inside him. A living claw. He relished the feeling. 

At least he had that.

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it. Verstael is the only person alive who willingly infected himself with Scourge because he's in love with Ardyn. It's so sad and it hurts...so good. <3 <3 
> 
> Thanks for reading, guys! Hope you enjoyed! I'll be waiting for the DLC patiently (or semi-patiently). The gaps in this fic are where I assume the DLC takes place, but you know. This might just end up being an AU entirely and I'm okay with that too. ^__^ 
> 
> Happy waiting! Come chat with me in the comments or on hellblr if you want to bide some time :)


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